We approached the gyms own reception desk apprehensively, having to push our way past a group of skinny young boys barely if at all out of school, not a scrap of stubble to be seen amongst them and none as tall as Ben, who really isn't that tall. They eyed us up and I immediately felt completely self conscious. The guy behind the desk was grabbing his bag as I started to say "we're here for an induction" and cut me off mid flow by simply pointing at something behind me. I turned back to where the boys were huddled around a touch screen monitor on a pedestal as a tiny tanned lady showed them how it was done.
Feeling our eyes on her she beamed up at us with a wide, white, reassuring smile.
"Are you here for the induction? Have you filled out your forms yet?"
She fetched us said forms, the usual array of medical questionnaires.
"I'll be with you now, just fill these in while I finish off this induction. We've been absoloutely inundated this week!"
We sat at a little coffee table carefully filling in our vital statistics and going over the medical questions. Whilst we're not the very picture of robust good health, thankfully the only serious thing either of us has to contend with is my asthma so it was a case of ticking all the boxes, and then we sat back waiting. We joked, somewhat nervously, and kept glancing to and fro. By this point, the gym had emptied quite dramatically and aside from the group of young fellows having their inductions there were only about five other people there, all very much focussed on their own progress, in the zone as it were.
At this point I caught my reflection in one of the large mirrors up along the back of the gym. Usually it's full body mirrors that really cripple my self confidence; that and a camera... I have a severely distorted view, in my mind, of how my body actually looks (that is, in my mind I look much slimmer than what turns up in the mirror or in photos) and whilst that's great when I'm strutting down the street giving it all that, it's terrible whenever I catch that glimpse of myself.
Of course, I had been worried about how I would look in my gym outfit. I'd eventually decided to stick with the vest top I bought for the occassion, but was still not feeling too good about it. But I realised as I looked over into the mirror at myself...actually, for once, the mirror showed a picture that was actually better than what I expected to see. I didn't see "a big butch dyke" (as I'd told Ben I felt like when I first put it on) but an overweight lady who looked no worse than any other overweight lady in a gym kit that I've ever seen. In fact, my gear seemed to be rather slimming, all things considered.
Of course, that could be my actual weight loss showing through, as I have been registering a slight loss in the tape measure department,.
So with the gym nearly empty now, the boys thoroughly distracted by the exercise bikes and my realisation that actually I didn't look even half as terrible as I expected to, I began to feel much more at ease. Ben made a quip about how it would be nice to see just one person with a belly like his, and I made a quip back that hey, here I am! He agreed that despite how busy it had been just moments before it really had quietened down and besides, no body else really cared about us two at all.
Finally the tiny woman with the massive smile came back and went through our forms. She double checked I had my medication with me and she set up our mywellness keys and accounts so we could use the gym equipment and track our progress, explaining that for now we'd have a basic thirty minute cardio programme on there and that we'd come back to see her later to get a personalised programme suited to what we want out of our training.
She showed us the magic touch screen, which turned out to be the log in system, explaining that no log in means no work out; the key is needed to activate the machines, and the log in is needed to activate the key. She gave us our information to access our workout info online, watched us using the machines, showed us how the key works with the weights, and finally arranged an appointment with us to get our personal programmes sorted (this Wednesday!)
And then we were left to it, and we got in a nice easy thirty minutes.
Ben finally "got" what I meant by getting into your zone, and feeling the good exercise endorphins. We left on an absoloute high, and even the ten minute wait in the rain for our taxi home didn't seem at all bad.
Since our initial visit we went again on Saturday morning and left again with the same awesome high. This was especially wonderful since we'd been drinking at a friends birthday do the night before and were feeling a little worse for wear at first.
Well, I was. Ben didn't and he drank more than me. After only two G&T's and a fruity cranberry juice and amaretto cocktail, I'm starting to think I'm becoming a delicate wee flower when it comes to alcohol, but like the sudden realisation that ASDA pizza isn't all that after all, I don't think this is a bad thing...more like my body telling me it likes the new, healthier diet of fresh home cooked food and litres of water or juice.
The only thing now is keeping it up. I've really enjoyed it, and I'll feel even better once I have my programme with weights to do. The real issue is getting the time to go. On evenings when I'm not either at work or ChildLine I can try to schedule a session in with Ben, but I have no guarantee of numbers of evenings off. Ben has already said he will start going when I'm at work on an evening to make sure he gets all his work outs in, and so by rights I need to go during the day when he's at work if I'm at work in the evening...but whilst it's one thing to kick up courage to go with your best beloved, it's another thing to do it on your own.
Still, it will probably not be so bad. After all, people go to work through the day, it may well be quite quiet. I guess I shall find out on Tuesday, if I'm not stuck in waiting for a British Gas engineer to turn up to see to our broken gas meter...but that is an entirely different
rant story.
Till then!
